


How to hide you love someone by loving them

by Dr_Redsy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5 + 1, Don’t copy to another site, M/M, keepjohnlockalivecompetition, sherlocksmolmescompetition, writeforjohnlockcompetition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 19:15:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20680526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Redsy/pseuds/Dr_Redsy
Summary: John knew that when there was something you wished to hide from Sherlock Holmes, the worst thing you could do was try to hide it.A five and one piece about John hiding his love for Sherlock in plain sight and Sherlock trying to call him on it.





	1. Splinter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sherlocksmolmes](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sherlocksmolmes).

> This is part of the sherlocksmolmes keep johnlock alive challenge. I’ll be posting the next chapters in the coming days, but I figured I’d at the very least get the first chapter out there!

John knew that when there was something you wished to hide from Sherlock Holmes, the worst thing you could do was try to hide it. As such, upon realising his feelings for Sherlock, being of the non platonic nature, he knew that the worst thing he could possibly do was try to deny it. Because if there was anything Sherlock loved, it was a secret. Well puzzles, but also secrets. He enjoyed using his brain to dissect you atom by atom until there was nothing left but the cold beating truths of your soul, laid out for display to anyone who had been in the vicinity to watch your unravelling.

Because of this, and a deep desire to do so, John loved Sherlock openly and without restriction, not holding himself back from laying praise and heartfelt compliments upon the mad bastard as he saw fit. And were this love of a familial fashion, or that of a dear friend, then that would have been enough. No need for hidden dealings, or the smoke and mirrors used in careful diversions of a genius detective. No, John’s heart burned, a yearning behind each stolen glance, and desperate pain built into the drum of his blood with every smile Sherlock carelessly threw his way. 

So, to hide his hidden feelings, without hiding them so much that he would be devoured by a litany of caustic deductions, he knew that he could also never act upon them, for fear that the ridicule would come to much more disastrous effect. The suggestion that he may have some ulterior motive for standing by Sherlock’s side, that he may be shunned from him and the glorious adventures they had together because of perceived notion that he may only want for base and carnal motions reviled John even more that the idea of having been in Molly’s place at Christmas during the year of The Woman. 

He had thought to have been doing well in this endeavour, for the most part, until this morning. Sherlock’s newest case had been almost tedious in its longevity, but they persevered; it was an 8 on the Sherlock interest scale. A rare high number that they hadn’t come across in almost three months, much to Sherlock’s chagrin. Indeed, the case itself had been on for nearly a month itself; the residence in which the offence took place living on the cusp of Lestrades’ division’s perimeters, and the Detective Inspector on the other side of that line had not been nearly as forthcoming as Lestrade himself.

But back to why John’s morning seemed to be ruining his carefully built layers of camouflaged feelings. Sherlock had decided that the information he was receiving was not coming fast enough, so took it upon himself to dig deeper. All well and good were it not for the fact that the way he chosen to do this had been sat in the detective’s lap in their lounge room, looking thoroughly shagged out and undressed enough that she might be getting ready for a second (or third, going by the noises John had been subjected to earlier) round.

“Sherlock! Do you not have a little more decorum then that!” Mrs Hudson, who had followed John up when he returned from a grocery run, cried out upon seeing the pair. The girl; Hillary or Hayley or something, John had made no real efforts to memorise it, startled, though Sherlock seemed unfazed. He had instead watched John’s disinterested waddle toward the kitchen.  
“My apologies Mrs Hudson, we were under the impression that we may have a little more time before anyone arrived.” Sherlock shot her a smile as the girl buttoned up her clothes and dashed out, but not before giving Sherlock quiet instructions to call her later and a quick kiss to his cheek. John knew that was a lie. Sherlock has it down to a science how long it took John to get to and from the shops, with variations such as weather, road works, and John’s mood, all accounted for.  
“Well next time maybe consider putting a tie on the door, so those of delicate sensibilities don’t need to see this.” The landlady replied, heading back downstairs before anyone could dispute the idea that her sensibilities were in any way delicate.

John, by his point, had managed to get most of the groceries put away. He heard the almost imperceptible creak of the floorboards as Sherlock approached, stopping in between the sliding doors of the kitchen. 

He was waiting for something, John did not want to think of what. 

After a few moments of expectant silence, John glanced up, “I’d ask if you were planning to help, but we both know the answer.” He joked, begging silently that some interruption would appear to turn Sherlock’s probing gaze from him. Nothing came.  
“Normally when you see an attractive woman you cannot help yourself from staring, yet Bethany,” Ah. That was her name, “was practically naked and you didn’t even spare her a glance.”  
“You want me to ogle your girlfriend?” John attempted to deflect, turning his back on Sherlock again to fill the thankfully experiment free freezer with slowly liquefying ice cream. Sherlock was undeterred.  
“You haven’t spared a glance for a single  
woman in at least a month,” John couldn’t help a scoff, surprised that Sherlock had only noticed in this last month, when his interest for others had been dwindling for near on a year, “Turn around, it doesn’t take that long to put away frozen goods.” 

John had felt a sudden rush of cold beginning a the back of his neck and spreading down his spine, as unpleasant a feeling as if he had poured the dessert in his hand down the back of his shirt. No. This wasn’t the moment. A beat of silence and John contemplated whether he would turn around. 

Another.

Mrs Hudson had bustled in at that moment with tea and biscuits, effectively and thankfully ending the discussion. No, this morning he was almost foiled, simply because he had not taken a moment to stare at the arse of a stranger in his sitting room. He’d be more careful to be more blatant from here on out.


	2. Fracture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of the sherlocksmolmes keep johnlock alive challenge. I’ll be posting the next chapters in the coming days, but I figured I’d at the very least get the first chapter out there!
> 
> Voting will take place on the 30th, so if you like this story, make sure you go to sherlocksmolmes and vote when you can!

For the next week and a half John had been on tenterhooks, waiting with increased agitation for Sherlock to take out his frustrations of an unsolved case on him by trying to dissect him again. Finally though on the 11th day, a breakthrough occurred followed by a handful of deductions, the brandishing of a blade an inch from John’s face, and an arrest.

Greg was there for the arrest, standing by John as the perpetrator; the mother of Sherlock’s fake beau, was loaded into a police vehicle. “I’ve got a date tomorrow night.” The Detective Inspector commented offhandedly, “Was wondering if you’d be able to come round beforehand. It’s been a while since I’ve gone out and... well you get it.”  
John smirked jovially out of the corner of his eye at Lestrade, “What, and you think I’m any better? When was the last time you heard about me going out?” He huffed amusedly before continuing, “Better yet, when was I last out that wasn’t then interrupted by Sherlock.” They both looked toward where the man in question had been just moments prior, where a officer taking a statement from one of the witnesses now stood. “And it’s not like I’m really in the dating world anymore.” He continued as an afterthought.  
“Why no- right of course, stupid question.” Lestrade interrupted himself when John gave him an almost withering glance.  
“Not a stupid question at all Geoffrey.” A velvet voice spoke from behind them, causing both men to startle, “Though a more interesting question would be how you knew the answer to it, without John saying a word. Clearly this is some sort of discussion you’ve had before.” With a deep sigh both John and Greg turned to face the imposing detective, readying themselves for the onslaught to come. “So much so that the answer is not only known, but also something that has been true for long enough that it could now be known as an obvious fact.” His eyebrows scrunched together in contemplation, “But going by my observations it has only been one month and thirteen days that John has ceased romantic activity, and given how long it takes for John to arrive at epiphanies about his own person, that isn’t enough time for whatever the answer is to be so obvious that Gaston would feel foolish for not realising immediately. I’m missing something.”  
“Gaston?!” Greg retorted indignantly, making John sigh again, stepping up to Sherlock as a way to mediate.  
“You said it yourself when we first met, ‘there’s always something.’ You miss things and-“ John was interrupted as Sherlock grabbed he sides of his face, face lighting up as he realised something.  
“How could I not realise!” He grinned maniacally, and John prepared for the worst, “The mother couldn’t have done all of this on her own! I was too close to realise it, the daughter is the mastermind!”  
“Wait what?” Confusion bled into John’s voice, synapses not firing on the same lines as Sherlock.  
“Oh John!” The genius leaned forward, pressing a firm kiss to John’s forehead, before releasing him and starting towards the acting Detective Inspector, “Brilliant!”

John blinked slowly, before turning to Greg, “Did he just?”  
“Yes.” Greg replied, looking far too amused to John’s eye.  
“Do you think he...?”  
“I don’t even know if he realised he did it.” The DI looked at his watch, before slinging an arm around the bewildered man’s shoulders, “Well I’m officially off the clock. Pint?” He offered with grin.  
“Pint.” John nodded, allowing himself to be directed toward a cab rank, still contemplating what had just occurred.


	3. Shatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Some discussions of a sexual nature happen in this chapter. Nothing actually happens, but there are mentions of dicks, so you’ve been warned.

It was another two months before Sherlock began digging again. Long enough that John had gone back to being comfortable in openly loving Sherlock and disinterested in anyone else. If he were an artist, he knew he would have a hundred sketchbooks filled with parts of Sherlock’s anatomy in action. His fingers steepled in thought, his eyes bright as a connection was forms, his hair in the wind, his lips... him, in every beautiful moment that existed in every second John spent gazing at the younger man. If he were a poet he’d have composed more sonnets each day than words Shakespeare had used in every single one his works together. But he was neither of those things, so instead he settled for making Sherlock tea when asked, cheering him on from the sidelines as his brain raced through the mazes of mystery they face regularly, and being the best friend he could be to Sherlock. 

However now, staring at the box of pills Sherlock had very unsubtly put next to the mugs, John wished that he could take back some of those things.

“What is this?” John asked to Sherlock, who was currently sprawled across their couch in his pyjamas and night gown.  
“I would think you could recognise them, given that you are a doctor.” Came the retort after barely a glance.  
“Why did you put a box of viagra next to the mugs?” John pressed, having a fairly good idea of what was going through the intelligent idiots’ head.  
“Well you said I wasn’t allowed to go into your room without your permission, and if I left them in the bathroom there was a chance you either wouldn’t have seen them, or thought they were mine.”  
“Why have you got me viagra?!” John’s voice squawked up an octave at the end of the sentence, reflecting his irritation.  
“Well, given your recent disinterest in the opposite sex, lessened masturbatory sessions and advance in age I figured you were just uncomfortable about confronting your impotence, so I thought, being your friend, I would buy some... aids for you.”  
“Lessened! Advanced! Importance!” John could not believe what he was hearing, nor could he believe just how calm Sherlock looked whilst throwing these accusations at his face. He decided to go with me most confusing of them, “What the hell do you mean by lessened masturbatory sessions? Have you been tracking how often I- I can’t even say it, that’s such a... what does that even mean?”  
“You are washing your sheets less frequently, the monthly spending on lubricant has gone down and...” he paused for a moment, looking almost as though he was beginning to regret this interaction, “I haven’t heard you at night in weeks.” Those words sent a red flush through John’s face.  
“Sherlock, I haven’t been... I’m... look I’m not impotent, I’ve been doing...that just as much as I always have been, I’m just choosing my times when you aren’t home and am practicing cleaner... methods.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to calm himself, “and even if I was impotent, which I’m not, that’s not for you to try and solve. I just...” He paused for a moment, remembering another false deduction, “What the hell did you mean advanced age? I’m 45 not 60! I’m only 6 years older than you are!”  
“40 percent of men have issues with erectile dysfunction by the age of 40 John, it fits.” Sherlock’s whole face was pink now, clearly more embarrassed and perturbed that his solve was incorrect than the insensitive way he had handled it. John in turn, tossed the box at Sherlock, who caught it out of the air.  
“How about, in future, you worry about your own cock before you go wondering what mine is doing hm?” He left the room, heading upstairs to get ready for work, surprised that he’d managed to keep a straight face all the way up to the door. 

John knew however, that’s for the rest of the day he would be wondering about Sherlock’s cock, thanks to his own exiting line.


	4. Disintegrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is already tense from the last chapter, will his mood improve with this one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your lovely messages!
> 
> As I said previously, this story is being submitted to sherlocksmolmes “Keep Johnlock Alive” competition, so if you love the story please go over to their tumblr on the 30th and make sure they know!!
> 
> #keepjohnlockalivecompetition

John had thought after sufficiently embarrassing them both, Sherlock would put this idea that John had a secret to keep, to bed. Unfortunately that did not seem to be the case as a mere two days later Sherlock was escorting a lovely-looking blonde woman into their lounge room with his politest and most charming of smiles. John had been enjoying watching a new show based off a book written by two of his favourite authors, when Sherlock came to a stop in front of him.

“John, this is Coral Jennings.” He proclaimed, with an almost smug satisfaction. She stood by the doorframe into their lounge room, and gave John and awkward half wave, arm plastered against her side as though she didn’t wish to consume too much space.  
John stood to greet her, presuming she was a client with a particularly interesting case, only to be interrupted before he could open his mouth.  
“I spent all week trying to find someone perfect.” Sherlock whispered to him, just slightly too close to his ear, so that John could feel his warm breath brushing against his skin, “She’s exactly your type, going by my calculations on what you find appealing in a woman. I’ve told her that you’re taking her on a date. And given the fact that I misstepped a few days ago, she will be pleasantly surprised by your stamina. Have fun!” John gaped as Sherlock trotted merrily out the door, no doubt to go meddle in the affairs of some other poor fellow.  
“I apologise, I didn’t realise he was springing this on you quite so suddenly.” Coral spoke in a soft lilting tone, her small, closed lipped smile designed to put people at ease.  
“Perfectly fine.” John’s staccato tone betraying him as he sent a quick glare to Sherlock’s chair in lieu of Sherlock, before directing Coral to head out, following after her quickly.

It wasn’t until they were in the cab on the way to whichever restaurant Sherlock had chosen for them before he spoke again.  
“This isn’t...” he paused, “You’re in no way obliged to tell Sherlock about any of this are you?” He questioned, only now realising this may be some sort of test.  
“No, I’m actually friends with Molly, she gave me a very thorough rundown in what to expect when it comes to Sherlock and yourself.” Again with the falsely comforting smile.  
“Fantastic, then this isn’t going to work.” He stated plainly, “I would still love to take you to dinner, both because I don’t want to waste your evening and I’m sure Sherlock will badger us both if I don’t,” she finally gave a genuine smile at the comment, clearly Molly had been very thorough in her description of Sherlock, “I apologise.”  
“Don’t, please.” She rested a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly, “In all honesty I was hoping tonight would fail. I’m bisexual, but this was going to be a deciding date about whether or not I continue to actively date men.” A mischievous happiness filled her eyes, “Though to be fair, with you being so upfront I’m not really sure which way that swings the decision.” They both laughed quietly at the comment, falling into easy conversation before the cab finally and unsurprisingly reached Angelo’s. 

The conversation flowed between the pair, ranging from taste in shows and music, to advanced medical knowledge as Coral was trained as a nurse, and was working both as an on call EMT, and more regularly, as a coroner. Once the food was finished however, they were happy to leave each other’s company, with an exchange of numbers and a promise to meet up again that both knew they were never going to fulfil. John waved as she departed in the cab, before heading towards the alleyway beside Angelo’s.  
“If you’re going to try and disguise yourself as restaurant goer, might I suggest actually eating something?” He called to the shadows, from which a very put out looking Sherlock emerged.  
“You didn’t even give her a chance, she was perfect.” He grumbled once he was fully in sight.  
“What do you mean? We went on a date. You watched it!”  
“It wasn’t even a date, you told her before you even got here that it wouldn’t work out between you.” He huffed, almost looking as if he wanted to stamp his foot petulantly.  
“How do you... the cabbie! He was your spy not Coral!” John pointed a finger accusingly at a black cab as it passed.  
“He wasn’t a spy, he was... I was the cabbie, I borrowed the vehicle from someone who owed me a favour.” John rolled his eyes at the turn of phrase, having heard it a million times before.  
“Of course. Why can’t you just leave it be Sherlock?” John huffed, wanting to be more angry but just feeling tired.  
“You’re hiding something John, it’s what I do, I figure out what people are hiding.”  
“I’m not hiding anything! I am, very obviously, not interested in women or dating right now.”  
“But women and dating are you John! It’s what you do besides work and help me with cases! If something is hindering that, and I don’t know what it is, then you must be hiding it!”  
John knew that if this was some sort of rom-com or romance novel, this would be the point in which he yelled in Sherlock’s face that he loved him. But it was neither, and he’d got very good at not saying his feelings. So instead he threw up his hands and made aggravated noises at the sky, before turning and walking away.  
“John? Where are you going?” Sherlock took a step forward, only to stop at John’s responding glare.  
“I’m going to walk home, and by the time I get there, you better have let this go or so help me god.” He didn’t have words to articulate his frustrations, so instead he finished with a simple, “Good night Sherlock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading! Xxx


	5. Implode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some innuendos in this scene and some angst so be ready for that.
> 
> #keepjohnlockalivecompetition

The house had been eerily quiet when John had arrived home. Either Sherlock had been out, had gone to bed, or had sunk so far into his mind palace that even his breathing was quiet. John hadn’t bothered to figure out which, instead heading straight to bed. That had been almost two weeks ago now and Sherlock hadn’t brought it up again. 

Though today John had other things to focus on; one of his unit was stopping in for a visit and he couldn’t be more excited, so much so that his smiling had made Mrs Hudson question whether or not he’d ingested some of her “medicinal” medication. John’s merriment was due to the arrival of Second Lieutenant Worst, nicknamed Brat for his young age in a unit primarily built of people over 35, he was only 30 then, now 34 and looking like the lovechild of Chris Hemsworth and Idris Elba. He was dark skinned and dark eyed, with the body of a surfer and the same propensity to not wear shirts. His abdominal muscles now bore a large jagged scar diagonally across them, dipping as far down as his hipbone, from where several pieces of shrapnel had embedded themselves and later removed; but if John was being honest, the scarring made them no less attractive.

The scene Sherlock had walked in on to meet this friend for the first time, was John admiring these scars from his knees in front of the younger man, whose shirt was off and pants down just enough to show his hipbone from the front and the top of his arse cheeks from the back. The detectives’ arrival was accompanied by a choking sound, at what must otherwise look like a compromising position.  
“Ah Sherlock!” John peaked around the hip of the soldier, who was only making the effort to twist his upper torso to look over his shoulder, “The is Brat, the guy from my unit I said was coming.”  
“You’ll have to do a bit more than look at my scar for that to happen.” Brat joked at John, feral grin revealing pristine teeth. Sherlock’s eyes hadn’t left John’s face from when it was revealed, looking so deeply in shock that he had stopped working. “Sherlock?” John prompted again, the soft tone seeming to startle the man out of his stupor.  
“Yes hello Lieutenant-“  
“Second Lieutenant-“ both soldiers corrected.  
“Second Lieutenant,” Sherlock amended, “I just wasn’t expecting to find John willingly in a stance that could be misconstrued in such a way.”  
“He’s been in far more compromising positions than this, with a lot less doubt of what was happening mate.” John hit Brat’s calf disapprovingly, “What? It’s true! Remember that time I walking in on you with those two-“  
“Alright, we aren’t spilling all my secrets in the first five minutes of you two meeting. Brat put your clothes back on.”  
“That’s a first coming from your mouth.” A choking noise from the doorway again at Brat’s words, John spared the man a glance and noticed he was now flushed red, eyes almost bugging out with what he was viewing.  
“Shut up and help me up.” John turned back to Brat, taking his hands and being hoisted into his chest, giving the younger man a cursory pectoral grope before shoving him away, “Go put your stuff in my room upstairs, you can stay there while your here.” The younger man nodded, grabbing his things and heading out of the room with a smile and a wink.

“So that’s your secret then?” Sherlock said after a moment, “You’re gay?” John rolled his eyes at that.  
“Didn’t I tell you to leave this alone? Why is this so important that I must be hiding something?”  
“So it is that!”  
“No Sherlock, I’m not gay. I’ve had sex with men before, but I’m not ashamed or attempting to hide that, it’s not whatever secret you seem to think I have.”  
The flustered look on Sherlock’s face turned from embarrassment to angry in seconds, “Of course it was a secret! I didn’t know about this! You stopped looking at other people, it’s been going on long enough that not only does Greg know, but you’ve discussed it with him, but you haven’t told me anything!” He took a deep breath, clearly getting ready for a longer rant, “it isn’t anything medical because apparently you’ve been hiding your changed routine from me as well! And even when someone literally perfect for you is presented to you, you don’t even give them a chance. I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me John,” his voice was going into a high octave of distress, “why can’t I figure this out!” His own shouting seemed to confuse him, as he tightened his scarf on his neck, “I’m going to Mycroft’s, I need a couple days in my mind palace and I can’t do that with you and your boy toy soldier in the house.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this story, please let sherlocksmolmes know over on tumblr on the 30th when the voting for the #keepjohnlockalivecompetition starts!
> 
> Or just leave me a comment and a kudos, that’s great too!


	6. Reunite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINAL CHAPTER BOI!!!

As if a bolt of lightning had just struck, a realisation occurred in John’s head just as Sherlock went to turn away, “Wait!” He called, stopping Sherlock in his tracks, “I know what it is, I know the secret.”  
Sherlock huffed, a sound John had got to know meant “Obviously John.”  
“Alright then,” the genius finally bit the tantalising bait, “What’s the secret then?”  
“The secret is I have no secret, you do.” John smiled warmly, his heart filling with glee as he said it.  
“What are you talking about? If I had a secret I would know about it.” Sherlock glared, looking ready to storm out again.  
“You see but you do not observe Sherlock,” God, John had been waiting ages to throw that particular turn of phrase back at Sherlock, and he felt a powerful sense of satisfaction doing it. “You’re too close to it all. When have you ever in your life cared about the feelings or relationships of those around you? You’ve always thought that sort of thing was meaningless. Yet now, you’re watching to see if I ogle women, questioning why I’m not dating-“  
“Yes, but that was because I thought it may affect your ability to be my assistant.” Sherlock attempted to butt in but John was on a role.  
“Except that can’t be the case can it Sherlock? Because we both know that when I’m single I have more time to be on cases, yet you attempted to find me someone who you deemed suitable for me, which had that worked would mean I would be there for less cases from there on out.” John’s grin was almost manic at this stage, “It also doesn’t explain why you were listening in the night for me, you weren’t tracking or checking, you just wanted to listen. And then when you found out I’d told Greg about what was happening, it upset you because I hadn’t said anything to you, and you were supposed to be the person I told everything to, the person I was closest to, because I was that for you in every sense because,” his heart stuttered minutely, taking a soft gasping breath in to make sure he had the strength to say it. 

“Because you’re in love with me Sherlock.”  
“I- John don’t be... I-“ for once lost for words, the almost hurt, absolutely terrified look on Sherlock’s face urged John to continue, “You’ve been hiding it from yourself and projecting it onto me, because it’s easier to see the feelings in me than realise they’re in you. Because I’ve never hidden the fact that I love you too.” Sherlock released a haggard breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding as he lurched forward, reaching out for John before he’d even finished the words.  
“John. John I need you to say it again so I know you mean it. Please.” Sherlock’s voice was frantic as his breath fanned over John’s face.  
“You love me,” John teased with a heartfelt smile, gently cupping the detective’s face in his hands, angling it forward and down so that their noses brushed, “And I love you too.” He whispered finally before their lips met in an earnest kiss, Sherlock weeping into it with the sudden burst of realised emotion, “You love me,” Sherlock repeated back once their lips had parted, “and I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a like/comment/or go vote for me in the #keepjohnlockalivecompetition on sherlocksmolmes tumblr page on the 30th if you liked it!! Xx

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to comment, I’d love to get your feedback! Xx


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